Lords of the Sky

“All Mhorvyn knows a Storyman was due this Bannas Eve,” he said, which was prevarication.

“That’s not what I meant.” I said it gently, smiling lest he think it a reprimand. “And I suspect you know that.”

“How should I?” he asked.

His rounded face was bland, his tone subtle, so that the question sounded entirely innocent; or cautious. I saw that he was no simpleton but quick of wit and careful. Also, I sensed in him an air of confidence. I chose to show somewhat of what I knew. I said, “I thought perhaps word had come. In Trevyn Keep I learned you name me Urt’s Friend.”

He said, “Yes,” and his smile grew wider. It was as though a mask dropped from his face. “Word came; and so you are known to us.”

I nodded, holding my smile in place even as I marveled at what I heard-word came ahead of me, as if the Changed communicated near as efficiently as the sorcerers. I felt a pang of guilt (small and soon enough consumed beneath my wonder) that I succeeded so well in combining deceit with honesty, revealing my own knowledge that I might pick more from his responses. Casually, I asked him how.

“There was a boat,” he said. “The crew had word of you.”

Of course: the craft that plied the coasts of Dharbek were manned by Changed, the caravans of the merchants were manned by Changed, and all moved from hold to hold, from town to town. They were the messengers. In the halls and holds Changed servants heard their masters speak and passed on word of what they heard to others-in the taverns, the markets, the docks: the places those who traveled visited. It was an effective network. I wondered if Lan knew of his kind dealing with the Sky Lords; and I knew that if I broached that topic, he would admit no more.

I asked him, “Do any other Truemen know of this?”

“I do not think so.” He shook his head. “To most we’ve no faces, nor eyes or ears. You are unusual, Daviot. You see us.”

I shrugged. It seemed to me no great thing to recognize the Changed as beings with feelings, identities, to perceive them as individuals, and yet I knew I was odd in this. I was more surprised that Lan should so readily confide in me. Also, I admit to feeling flattered.

I said, “Nor shall they know of it from me.”

And was again surprised when he gave me back a calm, “Why not?”

I had no ready answer, save that I sought to protect the innocent.

“Because,” I said, and halted. It was near impossible to express in words my confused emotions. “Because … Urt was my friend, and he was punished for my transgression.”

“Your mage,” Lan said, and nodded as if that were justification enough.

Now I gaped. He knew of Rwyan? Was all my life open to the Changed? This cat-bred servant appeared to know more about me than my own kind. I closed my mouth and asked him needlessly, “You know of that?”

“From the Changed of Durbrecht,” he replied. “When Urt was sent north, word spread of why-and of you.”

I swallowed, staring at him, not knowing what to say.

He looked me in the eyes then, directly, and in his I saw an absolute candor. “These matters are best kept secret,” he said. “For your sake as much as mine. Lord Yanydd-Laena-are kind enough, but I think if they knew … they would feel it their duty to alert Kherbryn, Durbrecht. I think that if the Lord Protector or the sorcerers knew, there would be … measures … taken.”

All I could think of to say was “Yes.”

“And did they,” Lan went on, “then you would be punished with us. I suspect Truemen would deem you a turncoat.”

I nodded, dumbstruck. Marvel piled on marvel here. This was no ordinary servitor, neither any ordinary Changed. There was suddenly an authority to him, a sophistication I had seen only once before-in Urt. I thought that if anyone could satisfy my curiosity about Ur-Dharbek and the wild Changed, it must be Lan. I wondered if I dared ask him.

I said, “Who are you, Lan? What are you?”

“A servant.” He shrugged lazily. “A Changed man descended from cats. A nobody.”

I said, “I do not think so.”

“Here”-he waved a hand, indicating the chamber and the keep together-“I am only that. What else should I be?” I said, “I don’t know.”

He said, “Also, I am a friend. Perhaps someday that shall count for something.”

I said, “This day. You place great trust in me.”

“And you in me,” he said. “Is it misplaced?”

I shook my head and said slowly, “No. Though I’ve myriad questions I’d ask you.”

“Perhaps I shall answer them,” he returned. “But now, do I see to your bath ere folk wonder at your absence?”

I saw the mask descend upon his face again, his expression become one of patient servility. I thought this was the only face most Truemen saw. I wondered if behind it, hidden deep in his eyes, I saw amusement. Abruptly, I wondered if Lan played with me; if perhaps he gave me back my own game, leading me into revelation, even as I thought to draw him out. I gave him a quizzical look, but he offered me nothing more, and I nodded. When the door closed on him, I stood for long moments, staring at the wood.

I had no further opportunity to speak with Lan that day, for when he returned with a tub he was accompanied by two sturdy Changed of taurine stock and played the part of courteous, efficient servant, seeing to the filling of the tub and leaving me alone with a minimum of dutiful words. I bathed and, dressed in my finest clothes (which were not very fine at all), made my way to the hall.

Yanydd called me to the high table, seating me between himself and Laena, and as the meal was served I was occupied, as the aeldor had promised, with a barrage of questions.

We spoke of the Sky Lords and the likelihood of the Great Coming, of the war-engines and the mood of the common folk, and of what I had seen during my year of travel. Of that topic I gave a censored version, wondering the while if Laena somehow sensed my dissembling. Her eyes never left my face as I spoke, but her voice was soft when she voiced an opinion or a question, and I thought she did not see through me.

In return I got back what news they had. The little airboats (Yanydd and Laena believed them scouts for impending invasion) had been seen less frequently of late, as if the onset of winter curbed their intrusions; or, the aeldor declared in somber tone, they had gleaned all the information they required. He had filled his storehouses against the possibility of siege and made preparation as best he could to find shelter for the fishermen and farmers of his holding.

“The Sky Lords have the advantage there,” he murmured, “the God curse them. We cannot be all the time on alert, unsure what we face or when it shall come. The folk of this west coast are not so used to the attacks as the rest of Dharbek, and I’d not see panic spread with constant reminders to go wary. So my people forget-the God knows, they’ve lives to live and work to do without one eye all the time on the sky.”

“The Sentinels shall send warning,” Laena promised.

Yanydd said, “Yes. But do the Sky Lords refine these new-found powers, how much warning?”

At that, the commur-mage could only sigh and shrug and tell him, “As much they may.”

“Which may not be enough” was his glum response. “Do they now own full command of the elementals, perhaps they’ve the strength to overcome the Sentinels and be on us apace. And do they bring that strength against Kherbryn and Durbrecht, what then? Chaos, with every keep in the land fighting alone!”

“To overcome the Sentinels, even with their new powers, that shall be hard,” Laena returned. “No less to take Kherbryn or Durbrecht.”

“I pray it be so,” said Yanydd, and barked a laugh I thought was not much humorous. “I pray all our fears prove unfounded and they do not come at all.”

“We’ve faced them before and given them to the Pale Friend,” said Rhys fiercely. “We’ll do the same, do they dare invasion.”

His father nodded, smiling at the young man’s bravado. “I think that are our fears proven true, it shall be a Coming such as we’ve not known before,” he said, and turned to me. “Daviot, you’ve faced Kho’rabi-how think